


2.72 Elements of Mechanical Design

by passing-fanciful (kageygirl)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:30:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3646950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageygirl/pseuds/passing-fanciful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma's on her last nerve and not thinking clearly when the vending machine fails to give up the goods.</p>
<p>Killian's smart enough to know when <i>not</i> to laugh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2.72 Elements of Mechanical Design

**Author's Note:**

> Response to a tumblr prompt:
> 
> “mY CHIPS WOULDN’T COME OUT THE VENDING MACHINE AND I GOT MAD AND TRIED TO GRAB IT BUT NOW MY HAND’S STUCK AND PLS STOP LAUGHING AT ME THIS IS V SERIOUS IM GOIG TO CRy” au

As the crap pickle garnishing her complete shit sandwich of a day, when Emma pauses to take a deep breath before trying again to free herself, she hears footsteps coming up from behind her, echoing down the deserted 3AM basement hallway. She can tell the instant she's been noticed, because the footsteps falter, then pick up again, more quickly.

"Are you all right?" asks an accented male voice, somewhere above her head.

"Do I _look_ all right?" she snaps--or, means to, anyway. To her horror, it comes out sounding _exactly_ like someone who's trying not to cry, and she squeezes her eyes shut, leaning her forehead against the hard plastic window of the vending machine.

* * *

Killian crouches behind the kneeling blonde, far more awake and alert than if he'd actually acquired the caffeine whose deficit had driven him out of the MechE machine shop. Something about the clear, deep distress in her voice is affecting him, and it seems to come from a source more significant than just having her arm held captive by the vending machine.

"I'm not normally this stupid, I swear," she sighs, a world of weariness blurring the edges of her words. "I pulled a double at the coffeehouse, and then I had to go to the library to get my lecture notes back from my roommate, and I just needed some goddamn chocolate to get me through the rest of my thermo problem set. But some asshole blocked up the coin slot of the machine in Building 2." She slams the heel of her free hand against the window, making him jump--and also making him glad she didn't see it. "And then this _fucking_ thing took my last quarters, and I just--"

"Went after what was yours, of course," he says gently. "Not to worry, lass, we'll get you out."

He can see from here that she managed to get her hand past the plastic anti-theft flap, only to have her wrist trapped by it. "I'm going to reach into the machine, all right?" he says, and she nods, her hair shifting about her shoulders, her face still hidden from him.

But he only has to tap the plastic flap to realize how tightly it's wedged against her skin, and she hisses in a breath. "Sorry, love," he says softly, and she huffs out a harsh laugh with no real humor in it.

"It's my own damn fault," she says, and drops her forehead against the plastic with a dull thud that has him wincing in sympathy.

"Nonsense," he says, glancing up at the racks. He finds the culprit jammed between the window and the spiral coil that _should_ have dropped it, and feels himself grinning. "After all, there are days when I'd cheerfully murder my roommate for a Kit Kat."

She laughs again, more genuinely this time. "Yeah, but how do I know you wouldn't murder him anyway?"

"The urge is only particularly strong every third day or so," he says lightly, and watches her shake her head.

He glances around for inspiration, and notices the edge of a black plastic case peeking out past her. There's a piece of blue electrical tape along the top, with "E. SWAN" printed in bold black letters. "Is there anything in your nerd kit that might help, Swan?" he asks, and sees her twitch, before glancing at the case.

"It's not actually a nerd kit, it's just a tool box," she says. "Don't think I haven't considered soldering my arm off, but I was hoping that'd be a last resort."

She's joking, of course, but somehow the very idea fills him with a vague sense of horror. He tries to blink it away. "I'd far sooner damage this infernal, recalcitrant machine," he says, and then it hits him. "I'm a bloody fool, love," he says, and stands quickly enough that he almost loses his balance. "Back in a tick."

"Wait!" she says, just as he's turning away. He looks back to find her staring up at him through a messy fall of golden hair. "Uh. Never mind. Just--don't be long?" she says, her voice vulnerable in a way that he suspects doesn't come easy to this woman.

"Hardly long enough to miss me," he says, in the most suggestive tone he can manage, hoping to distract her. It works, he guesses, by the snort she gives him, and he throws her a sloppy little salute before jogging back down the hall and into the shop.

Will's locker is the same astonishing mess it's always been, but the gods of damsels in distress must be smiling on him, because he finds what he's looking for almost immediately, tucked behind a tangle of wires. He grabs a small rubber mallet from his own workbench, then heads back into the hallway.

When he draws near her again, he sees her shoulders untense, as if she'd expected him to abandon her. Utterly absurd, of course--he's not even seen her face, but her spirit alone has him enchanted. "We'll have you out soon, Swan," he says, and carefully inserts Will's little toy most of the way into the lock along the side of the machine. Keeping the key turned slightly, he taps it with the mallet, and is rewarded with a click as the key turns and the lock releases.

The whole front panel of the machine levers open, and she scoots herself awkwardly along the floor in front of it while Killian keeps hold of it. "Ow, fuck," she says, her fingers wriggling. "My arm fell asleep."

He kneels in the opening, taking her hand. "Try to relax," he says, feeling the pulse pounding in her wrist, squeezing her hand for comfort, though she may not feel it. Rotating her hand with delicate care, he pushes the plastic flap further up, away from where it's caught at the base of her thumb. He helps her twist her wrist and elbow free while holding the flap out of the way, and hears her heavy sigh of relief even through the plastic window.

He retrieves her Kit Kat from the well--it had fallen loose when the panel opened--and takes only an instant to consider the matter before reaching up to snatch a Twix from its rack. Closing the machine, he finally gets to take a good look at E. Swan.

Even with her features creased in discomfort as she rubs at her wrist, kneeling on the worn linoleum floor, she's almost unbearably lovely. He's glad they began speaking before he looked on her, or he might not have found the nerve.

He takes a breath, and then holds out the candy bars to her, one in each hand. "Your bounty, milady."

She gives him a wary look. "I only paid for one of those," she says, and takes the Kit Kat.

"Consider it recompense for their poor choice in vending machine design," he says. She still looks torn, so he adds, "You're telling me you've never paid one of those machines for an item you didn't receive?"

She watches him a moment longer, then shrugs and offers her palm. "What the hell, it's been a miserable day. Give it here."

Sitting back against the machine, she tears open the Twix wrapper, then offers him one. He takes it, mirroring her pose, stretching his legs out in front of him.

She chews with her eyes closed, an expression of bliss lighting up her face. He barely tastes the candy himself, because watching her is far more diverting. There's a dusty smudge along one cheekbone that he longs to wipe away.

"One question," she says, and rolls her head to the side to pin him with her gaze. "Why do you have a bump key for the vending machine?"

He shakes his head. "My roommate doesn't always put his talents to good use."

"Are you kidding me?" she says. "I think I owe him a beer."

"He'll gladly take you up on that," Killian says, with a chuckle. Two or three, really, if Will can weasel them out of her, though he suspects his roommate may have met his match. He ducks his head, lowering his voice teasingly, and says, "But nothing for your savior?"

She considers him for a moment, then licks a smear of chocolate off her thumb. "Just waiting for the feeling to come back to my hand," she says matter-of-factly. Then she reaches over, fisting her hand in the collar of his t-shirt, and pulls him into a kiss.

She tastes of chocolate and caramel, her mouth warm and invigorating, and he's suddenly wide awake, savoring every second, from the feel of her hair slipping between his fingers to the scrape of denim as her knee brushes against his thigh. When she finally pulls back, they're both breathing faster, and Killian can't help the grin stretching across his face.

"Killian, by the way," he says, fighting down a laugh that's one part sleep deprivation and three parts delight.

She opens her eyes, a beautiful, vibrant green. "Hi Killian. I'm Emma," she says, licking her lips in a way that he can't help but watch, those eyes sparkling with irresistible mischief. "And what do you know? My night is kind of looking up."


End file.
